I'm noticing that despite harsh frosts and whipping winds, a few leaves are clinging on to their parent trees along the banks of Hebden Water. A far cry from the vigour of summer and the glory of Autumn these tortured survivors are a pierced and twisted remnant of last year. I've enjoyed observing them closely and taking their photographs. They have an insectoid quality that I like and I imagine could lead to some interesting drawings. And of course they bring to mind Shakespeare's sonnet 73 with its lines...

Been spending some time down by my local river - Hebden Water, alongside Salem Field, making a series of drawings, playing around with different kinds of mark making. The winter weed skeletons are complex and beautiful. They held my attention for many an hour, as my drawings moved towards abstraction. The mild Graphite Days have been replaced by diamond bright ice and sun, but the softer form of Carbon still suits my mood for now.